


nothing's gonna stop us now

by janie_tangerine



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fix-It, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rescue, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, also this has the most teeth-rotting dialogue I've ever written my entire life, but then again I can't butcher robb's characterization more than d&d already do, if you're expecting accurate characterization and true-to-setting stuff then you're wrong, no really don't even go look for sense in this beyond the fluff, oh also character death but if you look at who's in this you can guess who dies, small asos spoiler though, sorta - Freeform, this also utterly disregards anything in the way of the fluff, this never happened and never will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3x07-related - Robb goes to the Dreadfort and walks in on *that* specific scene. Heroic rescuing happens and everything is sunshine and rainbows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing's gonna stop us now

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo. I was watching 3x07 and two minutes into the Theon scene I went like 'nope nope nope someone needs to write the crack fic where Robb goes there and walks in on this and stops everything and then it's all fluff all the time'. The moment that scene was done I went like 'screw it, I'm writing it'. I also figured that I'd just go for the crack, but apparently I started writing it seriously, so... this is a seriously-written (sorta) fic where I sincerely don't give a shit about the plot, the characterization and the likeliness of all this to happen and I stuff in every fluff trope that has existed since fluff tropes were invented and I titled it after fucking Jefferson Starship so yes, that's exactly what you're getting (seriously - everyone cries a lot, everyone kisses a lot, everyone cuddles a lot, the only thing this lacks is a Celine Dion song starting at the second section and nothing is probably the way I'd have done it if I had been attempting to write this with any kind of verisimilitude - don't expect it). Also: works on the premise that Talisa is actually a Lannister spy and Robb finds out - also yes I'm perfectly aware that timing-wise it doesn't add up but just pretend that there was enough time for Robb to find out and go to the Dreadfort in time.
> 
> Goes unsaid that I own zilch except for what little plot this has. Also it's totally tv-show based except for one thing that I'm sure will happen in the show but that as it is right now only is in ASOS, but I needed an excuse to send Robb up there, so hopefully you all read ASOS and you know what I'm referring to.
> 
> ... also I suppose that I should say that the song I titled this thing after actually kind of fits the circumstances, but I don't know if you want to listen to it while reading it unless you're cool with your teeth rotting down from the sugar in even less time.
> 
> EDIT: this now has fan art! The lovely [Thrumugnyr]() has drawn a scene of this [here](http://thrumugnyr.tumblr.com/post/51328333909/a-little-picture-for-the-robb-theon-fanfic) (the scene with Theon and Grey Wind) and it's totally gorgeous and totally perfect and you should totally go and check it out :D

He had been expecting something bad. You would, when you get a piece of fucking finger delivered to you as a _gift_.

The moment he hears Theon screaming for mercy from behind the door the guards had directed him to, he supposes that he’s arrived just in time to avoid another finger getting cut. Except that when he slams the door open (seriously, it wasn’t even locked) and he yells _stop_ , then he’s the one who has to stop dead in his tracks when he sees a bunch of men holding Theon down to the ground while his breeches are down to his knees. When he focuses on Bolton’s bastard standing right there with a knife in his hand, it doesn’t take much to reach a conclusion.

He doesn’t miss Theon’s eyes going wide as he stares up at him, as if he can’t even conceive that he’s standing there with a sword in his hand and a very angry direwolf at his side.

“You,” he tells to one of the Bolton men. “Cover him up if you don’t want my wolf to tear you apart before you can even blink.”

The man does without even asking why, and thankfully that’s when the men that had been behind him on the stairs flood the room.

“You three, put everyone in chains,” he orders to the first who arrive at his side. “You, put _him_ in a room and make sure he can’t escape.” The next two men go and take Snow outside. At this point there are just the two half-naked girls left. He glances at the two of them – they look terrified now. Well, he supposes that he doesn’t look very agreeable right now. “You two, go outside, dress yourself and don’t move until I understand what in the seven hells was going on here. Everyone else, out. I need to to talk to him.”

The room reeks of sex and blood and sweat. Robb thinks he’s going to be sick. Then, as everyone else leaves the room, he looks down at Theon again and gods but he looks as if he’s about to break down crying in gratefulness.

Robb already knows that this isn’t going to go the way he had imagined it would when he received that raven about Theon taking Winterfell.

\--

Robb reaches out with one hand, slow, his fingers shaking, and Theon flinches, moving away from it.

Robb tries not to curse under his breath and lets it drop on his knee, trying not to punch the floor. There are things he needs to know, and he needs to know them now.

“Please,” he says, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. “I want the truth. All of it.”

“Will you kill me after?” Gods, he’s never heard Theon’s voice sound this small. And it’s making Robb sick to look at him, but he has to know.

“Maybe,” he answers. He was never raised to lie. He wants to say _and whatever I do it won’t be this_ , but he’s not even sure that Theon would believe him.

Theon breathes in a shaky, small intake of air and then he does. Robb doesn’t even doubt that he might not be telling the truth – it’s plain obvious that he’s not even thinking about it.

When he’s heard it, he feels even more sick.

“I never – I wish I never did it,” Theon finishes, his voice breaking on that sentence, and Robb is sure that if he wasn’t hiding his face against his arms he’d see him crying. “I know I deserve this for what I did to you, and you’re only too right if –”

“What?” Robb interrupts, the weight of the words sinking in. “I never ordered this. I never _wanted_ this. You didn’t – wait, what did you just say?”

“I should have never done that to you,” he says again, his voice strangled. “I swear I tried, I tried but they wouldn’t listen, and I only just ever wanted to be – to be someone – how would _you_ ever think of _me_ as a brother?”

Robb knows he shouldn’t do it. But – after what he found out, after realizing that he might have been this close to die because he fell for a _spy_ like a fool and he had been surrounding himself with worse turncloaks, as Theon’s voice breaks all over again, he thinks that maybe he really doesn’t care.

He reaches out again, his fingers closing over Theon’s shoulder. He squeezes gently, and Theon looks up at him reluctantly, a dejected expression over his thinner-than-it-used-to-be face, tracks showing in the dirt covering his cheeks and tears still in his eyes.

Nothing about this is acting, it’s obvious.

“Didn’t you understand that you never really had to prove anything to me?” he asks softly. Theon’s eyes go wide at once, and Robb almost wants to gag as he sees the missing finger on his left hand. The skin Roose Bolton brought him earlier and that was half the reason why he left most of his army to come here at once.

“I know it’s too late,” Theon almost whimpers. “But if I could do it again, I’d come back at once. I was about to warn you,” he sobs. “But then I just – I thought better, no, worse, and I can’t – I just –”

“What if it wasn’t too late?” Robb asks before he can stop himself. Theon is looking at him as if he was some kind of god came down to earth right now, and it’s making him feel dizzy, and of all the things Robb wants right now, killing him isn’t one of them.

“It – it isn’t?” Theon asks, and now he sounds so ridiculously hopeful, but also as if he’s putting all his last efforts in it and if Robb says no he’ll shatter him for good.

“It isn’t,” Robb replies a moment later, and when he reaches out Theon doesn’t flinch. He puts his arms around Robb’s shoulders, his hands closed into fists, and when Robb pulls him closer he lets him do it, just to break down crying against Robb’s cloak, and then harder when Robb’s hand cradles the back of his head.

Robb is seeing red.

He doesn’t know how long it is before the sobbing gives way to sniffing, but at some point it does.

“When was the last time you ate something?” he asks.

No answer.

“I don’t remember,” comes from somewhere near his shoulder, and considering the state of his foot, Robb doubts that he’s going to be able to walk anytime soon.

“Can you wait for me a moment?”

“Are – are you leaving?” It sounds so miserable that Robb’s heart clenches painfully the moment he hears it.

“No. I mean, I have to do a couple of things now, but I’ll be back.” He looks at the window – the sun is still visible, but sunset won’t be for a small while. Enough to do what he has to. “At sunset. It’s not going to take long.”

Theon immediately backs away, giving him a small nod and looking at the ground.

Damn. This is not how – wait. Robb looks at the entrance, sees Grey Wind perched in front of the door. He nods at him and Grey Wind moves inside – Theon gasps when it curls against his side.

“What –”

“He’s staying with you until I’m back.”

He walks out of the room, and on his way he glances at them before leaving – Theon’s hands are shaking as he strokes the wolf’s fur.

He heads straight for the room where he left Ramsay Snow bound before.

\--

“How long?”

Snow just cackles instead of answering, and Robb has never been so tempted to feed someone their own medicine. The only thing stopping him right now is that he knows that it’s not what his father would have done.

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you.”

“Really, _my lord_? What could you possibly do? I was only following orders. Not to mention that to be truthful, I don’t see why would you even be angry about that. I was only paying you a favor. And I don’t think he’s worth your effort. I suppose you’ve never heard him wishing that he could be _your_ equal, did you? Pathetic, I’d say.” He laughs again. Robb is tempted to punch him in the face right now – he’s starting to see how a lot of things went, and he’s not so sure that he likes that choice of wording.

“Not my orders. And I can possibly do a lot of things. Also, your father is dead.”

Robb can’t help smirking himself when Snow stops laughing at once.

“Don’t you know? Turns out that my uncle knew a bit of Valyrian. Enough to guess what was on the last letter that my wife – well, _former_ wife – was about to send to Tywin Lannister. And that happened just after I was delivered a piece of finger. I had to kill Rickard Karstark for less. So yes, Snow, your father is dead. How long has this been going on?”

“Since we burned Winterfell,” Snow answers, still sounding entirely too sure of himself for Robb’s liking.

That long? Robb wants to punch himself in the face. Where the hell had he been thinking during the last few months?

Right. Better not to think of it.

“Are you still finding this funny? If you think that I’m going to kill the both of you instead of just one, you’re wrong.”

The smile finally falls off Snow’s face.

“He betrayed you. Why should you even spare him?”

“I don’t remember it being the reason why you had a knife in your hand and his breeches down when I walked into that room, wasn’t it? And out of everyone who betrayed me, seems to me like he’s the only one who regrets it. No, I think he lives for now. For what concerns you, I’m this tempted to bring my wolf here and tell him to tear you apart limb to limb, but I’d like to think that I’m not that kind of person.” He calls for one of his men standing guard outside. “Take him outside and bring me a wood block.”

The moment he says it, Snow’s face goes from carefully blank to terrorized.

He can’t honestly care less.

\--

He cleans his sword carefully, then heads back to the castle. He tells his men to bury the body in the first suitable place they find – he doesn’t care beyond that. Before going back to where he left Theon, though, he dismisses those two whores that Snow hired – they seem to be telling the truth when they swear that they had only been paid for that day and they had no idea of the reasons behind it – and orders one of them to give him her shawl – it looks soft but it’s not too thin cloth, and at least he has learned to bandage a wound.

Small mercies.

“You came back,” Theon whispers with still wide eyes as Robb walks inside the room, shawl in his hand.

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

He brings his knife out of the sheath, noticing that Theon flinches visibly as he does.

“Calm down,” Robb says before cutting the shawl into six long stripes. There’s a bowl of water on the ground – he wets one of them before kneeling down next to Theon’s legs, in front of his foot. There’s crusted blood all over it and he wants to hurl, but this is not the time.

“Right. I have to clean this. Stay still, all right?”

Theon gives him a small nod and Robb proceeds on cleaning the wound as best as he can – it’s swollen though, and it has to hurt still even if it’s not new. 

Not to mention that Theon only has his breeches on, and they’re in a fucking poor condition. There’s no way he can walk out of here. He sighs again, throwing away his piece of cloth and wrapping a new one around Theon’s foot, hoping that it doesn’t bleed out. He makes it tight but hopefully not too much, curses the fact that he perfectly knows how to do it, and then he takes off his cloak and his outer shirt – he’ll survive with just one.

“Here,” he says handing it over. Theon puts it on, but his fingers are shaking so hard that he can’t lace it up – Robb does it for him wordlessly. Then he grabs the cloak and pulls it around Theon’s shoulders, too.

“Well, I suppose you can’t walk outside, can you?”

“I’m not – I don’t think that –”

“Fine. Not a problem. All right, I guess it’s my bloody luck that you never were too heavy.”

“What?”

“What do you think?” Robb answers before putting a hand under his knees and one behind his shoulders. He’s not too surprised that Theon doesn’t weight that much, regardless of how much he didn’t before.

“Robb, what –”

“What does it look like? I’m getting you out.”

For a moment nothing happens, and then he feels Theon stopping to resist, hiding his face against Robb’s neck and throwing his arm around it.

Robb takes a deep breath and walks out of the room. The moment he’s out and there’s no scent of sex or blood he feels marginally better.

“Burn down that cross,” he tells to the first of his soldiers he runs into, and if they have questions about who he’s carrying out, they don’t ask any.

\--

They came in a hurry, and so his tent has none of the comforts that his old one had. He doesn’t really miss the bed, the one he shared with someone who wasn’t who he thought, but maybe it would have been better than the ground, at least for Theon – he’s afraid to ask if he remembers the last time he slept in one.

He lowers him down on the bedroll he had brought along and tells the guards to bring him some food and water and after that, not to disturb unless it’s for urgent reasons. He makes sure that Grey Wind is standing guard outside. Then he walks back inside and kneels at Theon’s side, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey. Do you want something to eat? Or to drink?”

“I think – I’m not –”

Robb tugs slightly so that Theon has to turn on his back and face him – he’s fishing for words, as if he wants to ask for something but can’t bring himself to, and his eyes are so bloodshot that it can’t be all because of tears.

Then Robb realizes it.

“Let me guess. You haven’t slept much recently, have you?”

“He never let me,” he answers in a thin voice. “Whenever I fell asleep he would blow that horn and I’d wake up again and I don’t remember, I don’t –”

“All right. All right, don’t. Just – just go to sleep, all right?”

“I can’t, what if –”

“Nothing’s going to happen. Do it. We can discuss the rest later.”

Theon doesn’t even fight him on it – he curls up on himself as much as he can and his shoulders sag downwards, and Robb stays there until he’s brought the food he asked for earlier. He puts it on the side, it’s going to have to wait, and then he lays down behind Theon and puts an arm around him, trying to do it carefully. The next hour or so is uneventful, but then Theon starts stirring and muttering _no_ under his breath.

Robb moves away enough that he can put a hand on Theon’s shoulder and shake him awake.

Theon’s eyes open at once and he’s breathing fast and for a moment he looks terrified, then he sees Robb and he closes his eyes as he slumps down on the ground in relief.

“I thought I was back there,” he says, barely audible.

“You aren’t,” Robb answers, not knowing if he should leave him some space or not. “And you can’t get back there at all – he’s dead.”

“Dead?”

“What did you think I left for? Come on, you should eat something. If you don’t want to try and go back to sleep?”

“No. No, it’s – not a good idea.” Robb can’t help finding it eerie, how still he’s keeping himself, as if waiting for a blow or something similar. He’s also shivering all over.

He reaches out for the plate and the bowl of water he had brought in before and pulls them both closer.

“All right. We both need to be warmer than this. Here. Hand me the cloak.”

Theon does, and his hands are shaking so much that Robb doubts that he’d be able to even hold up any of those bowls for more than a moment. Well, not a problem. He moves so that he’s laying with his back against one of the poles holding up the tent, Theon’s back against his frame, his legs around Theon’s hips and his cloak draped over the two of them – considerably better.

“Robb? What are you even doing?” Theon’s voice is bordering on miserable, but he had pretty much imagined it would.

“Did you already forget that conversation we had before sunset? It’s not too late. And while we should probably talk about things, I think we can save it for when you’re in the right mind. I don’t think it’s the case.”

Theon stays silent for one moment, his head falling back against Robb’s shoulder in exhaustion.

“Did you say that there’s water?” He rasps.

“Sure.”

He reaches out for the bowl, handing it to Theon, but the moment Theon’s fingers touch it, they start shaking again and the whole thing doesn’t fall on the two of them just because Robb was still holding it up. Some does spill on the cloak though, and Theon goes rigid all over again.

“Oh – I’m sorry, I didn’t really mean to, _please_ –“

“It’s fine. Hey. Hey, it’s fine, nothing happened and you haven’t slept in gods know how long. Stop.” He’s kind of regretting not having gone with his instincts regarding Ramsay Snow right now, but he’s going to keep calm for the moment. He brushes the fingers of his left hand over Theon’s forehead, and it works – Theon falls back with his head against Robb’s chest, and his hands are still trembling.

“Wait. Here. Small sips would probably be better.”

He raises the cup of water to Theon’s lips and tips it just slightly – the moment Theon drinks a bit of it Robb can see pure relief wash down on his face, and they’re done pretty fast, even with the small sips.

“Should I ask for some more?” Robb asks when he’s put the cup back on the ground.

“No. No, it’s – I’m fine.”

 _No you’re not_ , Robb thinks, but he knows better than to say it out loud.

“How?” Theon croaks a moment later.

“How what?”

“Why are you even here,” Theon replies softly, and he’s not looking at him right now.

“Ah, that. Well, that calls for an entire explanation of what happened since you left.” He takes a deep breath and tells the whole story starting from meeting Talisa to finding out about the wedding being a trap.

“At that point Roose Bolton arrived to our camp without knowing that I knew that he was planning to turn his cloak. And – he said he had a gift for me. Which happened to be a piece of skin.”

Theon shudders violently and Robb doesn’t even think before reaching down and covering Theon’s left hand with his own, missing finger included.

“Which was nothing I had ordered. And – well. He found out that I knew a moment later. At that point I figured I’d come see for myself.”

“Even if I –”

“I wanted to ask you why you did it before – before deciding what to do.”

“And what did you decide?”

“Well, for now I just want to get some food into you. Beyond that, I think I’ll be going back north after regrouping and considering some better plans. And I think you should be coming with.”

“I – I should?”

“Yes. I really think you should.”

“But – why?”

“Believe me, out of everyone who betrayed me you might be the only one who might have had a reason to. And who wasn’t hoping that I’d be dead after. Not to mention that I almost dug my own grave. I think I can give you a second chance without worrying you’ll get it wrong.”

“This doesn’t – that’s not what he said, that’s not –”

“And what did _he_ say?”

Theon takes a deep breath. “That if I thought that this was a happy ending, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Seems to me like _he_ wasn’t paying attention, since he’s dead and you’re not. Or am I wrong?”

He doesn’t know what possesses him to bring their joined hands upwards and press his lips on the back of Theon’s, hoping that he’s not crossing some kind of boundary – gods, who even knows what happened before he walked into that room – but when he does it Theon gives him that look again, the one he gave him when he said it wasn’t too late before.

“Thank you,” he whispers, almost strangled, and then his eyes fill up with tears again – Robb tugs him closer, his head tucked against Robb’s collarbone. His shirt gets soaked all over again, not that Robb minds – damn, how long was it, three months? Four? He raises one hand to the back of Theon’s head, his fingers threading through his hair carefully – Theon cries harder the moment after he does, but he doesn’t tell Robb to stop and so he doesn’t.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts, but eventually the full-on crying turns into sniffling, and when Theon moves his head he looks almost exhausted, as if he’s out of any effort to put in it. Robb can feel his hands shaking against his sides – he reaches out to wrap his fingers around the left again.

“I’m – I don’t know why they don’t just stop,” Theon whispers miserably.

“Maybe because you haven’t slept properly for the gods know how long? And you really should eat something, you know.”

“I’m – I can’t –”

“You don’t have to do anything. Listen, I told you I’d give you a second chance, but you don’t need to actually start making up to me now. Just – give yourself some time and stop thinking I’ll be disappointed.”

Theon gives him a barely there nod before his head falls back against his shoulder. For a moment he doesn’t say anything.

“Did – did you say there was something I could eat?” He sounds like he’s expecting a slap to the face for having asked, and Robb doesn’t comment, just reaches for the bowl of food and raises the second one that had been used to cover it. There’s some bread, a bit of stew and a honeycake.

He grabs the entire bowl and brings it over to Theon’s right side, but the moment he takes a piece of bread in his hands his fingers start shaking hard all over again and it falls to the ground.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses. “I’m sorry, I didn’t –”

“I’m not going to do anything, you know. You don’t need to be sorry.”

Then he realizes something. He had seen the rope marks on Theon’s wrists, obviously, but now that he has a better look at his right hand, his skin is a lot paler there than below the wrist. He looks at the left, and it’s worse – it’s not just paler, it looks blue in some spots.

“… how long have you stayed tied to that cross?”

Theon shrugs. “More than I was actually off it?”

“And you’re wondering that your fingers are shaking?” Robb is no maester, but it doesn’t take a lot to guess that blood might not be flowing properly.

“It – it makes sense, I guess. But – I’m just – I’m not sure I can.” He looks at the plate as if he really regrets this whole deal, and then Robb figures that they can deal with embarrassment later. He breaks a small piece of honeycake and Theon’s eyes go wide when he realizes what he’s about to do, and Robb expects protests. Not Theon closing his eyes in resignation and giving him a small nod. His teeth bite down on the cake when Robb brings it close to his mouth, and he eats it slowly as Robb breaks off other small pieces and feeds them to him, but it stays all down and Robb figures that he should take advantage of the moment. When he’s done with the honeycake he does the same with the bread and what stew was on the plate, grabbing small pieces and passing them over. When he’s done he pushes the plate away and brings the cloak back up – it had fallen down to their waists.

Theon looks as if he’s about to start crying again and Robb decides that whatever conversation they should have now is going to happen in the morning.

“What about we both try to get some sleep and we talk in the morning?”

“I wish I could,” Theon replies almost miserably.

Robb doesn’t say anything and starts stroking his hair again, not saying anything but hoping that it might help – he’s not too surprised when Theon passes out from probably sheer exhaustion not too long later. 

Robb moves carefully then, laying the both of them down on the bedroll and using the cloak as a makeshift blanket – he isn’t planning on moving anytime soon and he doesn’t think he’ll need more furs. He puts his arm around Theon’s waist, curling against his back, and right now he’s too relieved to worry that he smells of blood, sweat and dirt. They can worry about that tomorrow and meanwhile if he closes his eyes he can almost believe that they’re back at Winterfell before this entire mess even started.

\--

The following morning, he opens his eyes at first light – he can see the sun from the flaps of the tent. Theon is still dead to the world, his breathing soft and even, still looking exhausted but at least it’s better than yesterday. _Anything_ is better than yesterday.

He stirs when Robb’s hand moves to his hip, though, and he’s awake a moment later – he blinks twice at him, and Robb can’t help noticing that he looks surprised for a second.

“I thought – oh. It was all true then.”

Robb chooses not to comment on that for both their sakes and lays back down next to him.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” he says, looking down at the ground for a moment and then back up at Robb. “Did you – did you really mean –”

“Yes, I really meant. And I just realized – other than your foot, do you need something else looked over?”

Theon glances at his bandaged foot, then shrugs. “It’s mostly just bruises.”

“Mostly?”

His fingers are shaking less than yesterday as he takes off Robb’s shirt. There are scratches everywhere on his back, probably because of the wood of the cross, and there’s his finger, of course, but it seems like the worst isn’t on the outside.

“Wait a moment.”

Robb comes back with fresh bandages and then looks through the few things he had packed – yes. It’s still there. Ointment that he knows for sure might work against superficial wounds at least in the sense of giving a bit of respite – he really wishes he didn’t.

Well, at least one good thing came out of that wretched wedding.

“All right, just try to stay still now.” He kneels behind Theon, running a couple of fingers coated in ointment against the scratches on his back and then placing a couple of bandages on the worst ones. He pays the same attention to the finger, then he figures he should re-do the one on the foot properly. It’s still swollen, but not more than yesterday – maybe it’s not going to get infected at this point, but better safe than sorry.

He goes back to where he keeps the few spare clothes he brought and grabs a pair of breeches and a clean shirt.

“Here,” he says, “put on something cleaner.”

Theon wordlessly grabs the clothes and turns his back to him – Robb doesn’t try to offer to help and he’s not asked for it until Theon’s shaking fingers can’t lace the shirt properly. He does it without saying a word and when Theon kneels on the bedroll he does the same a moment later.

“Better?” Robb asks, breaking the silence.

“Yes. I just – I don’t even know how to – you didn’t have to do this.”

“Case is, I’m starting to think that the both of us fare better when we’re in the same place, or don’t we?”

“I think you might be right,” Theon whispers, sounding slightly pained, but at least his mouth is half curled upwards right now. A moment later he shivers though, but it looks that it’s because there’s chilly air coming inside the tent right now. Robb can’t help smiling slightly before grabbing his fur cloak that was put on the side of the bedroll – he brushes dirt from the cloth and the Stark sigil embroidered in it, then he moves slightly closer so that they’re sitting in front of each other.

“Good. So we agree on that?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“What suggests you that I wouldn’t?” Then he grabs the cloak and Theon’s eyes go wide as Robb wraps it around his shoulders. Robb thinks he knows why – he hasn’t forgotten Snow’s taunting from before, and he heard Theon’s explanation. And maybe he should have put a bit more of an effort in making Theon understand a couple of things.

“Well, seems to me like this suits you pretty nicely. And on top of that, it looks like you need it. I guess you can keep it for now. Actually, just keep it altogether. I have another.”

“You – really?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t expect Theon to grab his hand tight enough that it hurts, but he doesn’t miss the chance – he threads their fingers together, moving even closer, and when Robb reaches out with his free hand, Theon doesn’t flinch this time as Robb’s fingers cup his cheek.

“You know,” Robb whispers, “as far as I was concerned, there’s never been a time when we weren’t equals.”

“How do you –”

“Snow had something to tell me before he realized I wasn’t going to give him a royal pardon. Now. Will you please believe me if I tell you that I meant it?”

“I can try?” His eyes are shining hopefully though, and Robb doesn’t even think about it before he kisses his cheek. He doesn’t think that going further would have been welcomed and he’s not even going to presume it even if it used to happen _before_.

For a moment Theon goes still, but then a shaking hand touches Robb’s neck and Theon turns his head so that it’s their lips touching – it lasts a second and then he moves away, but now he’s almost smiling fully and Robb is never, ever regretting coming here.

“Good,” Robb replies. “I can work with it.”

“I – you actually – you still want to?”

“To do what, kiss you? Do you want me to show you how much?”

“… for real?”

Robb doesn’t even bother trying to come up with an answer to that and kisses him again instead, mouth first – briefly – and then moving to his cheek again, and then he works his way through temple and forehead and the other side of his face before pressing his lips to his eyelids and to the dark bags under his eyes. He keeps on raining kisses downwards until he’s left a couple on the bridge of his nose to finally go back to Theon’s mouth again, and when Theon kisses him back it feels maybe a bit desperate, but it’s as good as it used to be, and Theon’s mouth feels familiar and warm and pliable against his, and there’s a healthy flush to Theon’s cheeks when Robb finally moves away enough to get a good look at him. 

“Do you need more proof?” Robb asks, not bothering to hide his amusement. Theon’s fingers are still skimming against the side of his head as if he can’t believe they’re touching each other, but he’s still looking at Robb in that damned way, the one that makes him almost feel unworthy because no one who actually was stupid enough to win every stupid battle he ever fought and then marry his bloody enemy deserves such adoration directed at them.

“I don’t think so,” Theon says quietly. “But if you were so gracious to give me some more, it wouldn’t do damage.”

“When you ask me so nicely,” Robb says before he lays back down on the ground, his head against the tent’s side. He pulls on Theon’s shirt and hauls him in so that they’re pressed against each other again and then he proceeds on doing it all over again, his lips ghosting over every inch of skin he can reach, though he takes care to keep his hands above the waist. Then he figures that he might as well take advantage of the favorable position and he presses his mouth also to the top of Theon’s head and to dry, long strands of hair on the side of his face.

By the time they’re done, he’s pretty sure that his lips are as kiss-swollen as Theon’s look, and he must be flushing equally, but it feels nice, and the only thing that he doesn’t like about this is that Theon looks just slightly worried and that won’t do.

“What’s the problem?”

“I just – I don’t know if – do you actually want to…” he doesn’t finish the sentence but he glances downwards, and Robb isn’t having any of that.

“Considering what I saw yesterday, I can guess that you don’t want to. Am I wrong?”

“It doesn’t matter, I can –”

“Stop that right now and just tell me the truth. Do you want to?”

“… No. Not now at least. I’m not sure I –”

“I don’t even want to hear that. If you don’t want to then I don’t either. I’m not in a hurry. You don’t have to prove anything to me. And you can say no to me, just so that it’s clear.”

Theon’s fingers are trembling against his cheek and his thumb runs against Robb’s jaw, so tenderly he can barely feel it.

“Can I – gods, I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. You can kiss me again, though.”

And then Theon does, and he’s still smiling shakily as his mouth meets Robb’s again, and Robb doesn’t really waste time – he kisses back and holds him closer and he knows that he has done the right thing.

End.


End file.
